Dead Eyes
by blakeBird
Summary: Ed had been gone for months. Roy supposes that he should have been grateful for that. Grateful in a sick, twisted sort of way. Because what would have happened if he hadn't found out, if he hadn't been forced to look so deeply into his subordinate's eyes, if he hadn't been left to wonder and debate for days? Long story short, if Ed hadn't been away, Roy would have had no damn clue.
1. Chapter 1

Hey, there :) Welcome to my story.

I've decided to rewrite this after re-reading the first about 6 chapters. I've been writing this for over a year and my methods of techniques have changed much since then. So, if you're reading _this_ for the first time and not my old work, I've spared you the pain of reading through a poorly-written fanfic. I'm planning to post the old version somewhere though, in case any of you are curious or want to check back on the old story. Here's the link: 624397934-dead-eyes-original-ver-chapter-one

Yes, I _know_ I changed some of the dialogue, but it was so horribly OOC that I couldn't stand it anymore. It doesn't change the plot, though, some of the wording is simply different.

I don't own this fandom or any of the characters.

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 **If the following tags are included in this chapter, they will be in italics and underlined**

 **DISCLAIMER:** **THIS STORY CONTAINS** ** _SEMI-EXPLICIT LANGUAGE,_ DISCUSSIONS AND DESCRIPTIONS OF DEPRESSION, ANXIETY, GRAPHIC ANXIETY/PANIC ATTACKS, GRAPHIC SELF-HARM, SUICIDE, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, MENTAL ILLNESS IN GENERAL, PHYSICAL ILLNESS, AND DISCUSSIONS OF DEATH. DO NOT READ THIS STORY IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THESE TOPICS.**

 **xxx**

Ed had been gone for months.

Roy supposes that he should have been grateful for that. Grateful in a sick, twisted sort of way, like half of him ached for the wish that he hadn't been gone so long and the other half of him was so relieved he did that it made his head spin. Because what would have happened if he hadn't found out, if he hadn't been forced to look so deeply into his subordinate's eyes, if he hadn't been left to wonder and debate for days before finally deciding on a confrontation?

But, long story short, if the pain-in-the-ass prodigy child hadn't been traveling around the country for four months, the Colonel would have had no damn clue.

It was a blessing in the form of a curse.

 **xxx**

The raven-haired man had been playing around with a ridiculously large stack of paperwork, as per usual, when the door slammed open without so much as a knock, _also_ as per usual. He didn't need to look up to know it was a large suit of armor cautiously tailing a tiny blond in a ridiculously large and blinding red coat. It didn't even surprise him anymore, the sudden noise of the large mahogany doors being thrown against the wall (how was it not damaged yet?); he and the rest of the office had gotten used to it throughout the years. (Fuery _did_ spill his coffee all over himself once, though.)

"You could be less dramatic when you enter the room, Fullmetal," Roy chided. "You know what? You could be less dramatic in everything you do, for that matter. That wardrobe of yours can be the first to go." There was the sound of loud, padded footsteps followed by ringing, metallic ones before he looked up to see Edward standing in front of his desk, his brother not but a few steps behind. Ed pointedly ignored his taunting and dug through his large coat pockets, face shaded by unkept golden bangs. Roy sighed, fishing his watch out from inside his desk and clicking it open. "At least you're on time."

"I'm actually _early_ , bastard," the fifteen-year-old rebuked, taking a fistful of crumpled papers from his pocket and tossing them onto Mustang's desk. Rolling his eyes and mumbling under his breath about something related to 'borderline intolerable' and 'the handwriting of a two-year-old', Roy took the papers and skimmed over them. They were nothing more than absence reports, an explanation as to why a member of the military had been on such a long, four-month leave. It should have been easy, so why could he barely read the damn thing?

The Colonel looked up at the boy in front of him. "I'm honestly not surpris-" His words came to a stop before the man even realized what was happening. Roy's charcoal eyes had finally caught up with the sight before him, and _how_ _had I not seen sooner because damn, something is really, really wrong._

The man took it all in at once.

First of all, Ed was _skinny_. Not the normal kind of small-build-small-frame skinny, but the kind where you could see the slight protrusion of bones underneath the skin and every article of clothing hung low like it was several sizes too big. It wasn't what he saw first, though, even though the boy was already so small that it kind of shocked him seeing Edward even _smaller_ than usual. The alchemist's gaunt face and slightly hollowed cheeks didn't disturb him as much as it would someone else; sometimes, usually after an especially long or challenging mission, the kid became like that for a few weeks. Roy, without much thought, regularly brushed it off, but not before dropping subtle reminders of _go home, Fullmetal, your short ass is falling asleep standing up_ and _eat this, I find it disgusting but surely it'll suit your underdeveloped and mediocre palate._

But even the difference in Ed's physical appearance didn't completely disturb him like the way his eyes did. _His eyes, his radiant, confident eyes, what happened to them?_ Why did they look so defeated, so _lifeless,_ so... _dead?_

Roy still remembers the first time he laid his gaze on them. Edward was tiny, a small defenseless child bound to a wheelchair and handicapped by both major physical and mental injuries. His eyes had no business shining as bright as they did that day, they had no reason to send a scorching chill down Mustang's spine because that kid had just been through unbelievable trauma. So why the hell did his eyes burn like a raging fire? Why did they blaze through Roy's subconsciousness?

He found the answer to that question out pretty early on. Edward Elric was determined. Determined to live and thrive and _fight_ like no one else he had ever seen, and Roy had _always_ known with a strict certainty that was true.

Always, until now.

His golden, shining eyes were dull. _Dull_. How was that even possible? Instead of radiating their usual confidence, were blank and dismal. They were _always_ the one thing about the boy that didn't change no matter how many other things around him did. To be completely honest, it scared the Colonel. It sent a different kind of chill than before through his body, like an icy finger tracing down his spine that made his hair stand up on end.

Roy didn't realize he was still staring with a blank, confused look written across his face until Ed's thin eyebrows pulled together in a glare. He raised his gloved hand and waved it in front of the man's face. "Earth to Colonel Bastard. I think your true, idiotic self is showing."

Mustang shook his head, breaking eye contact only to desperately connect it once more a mere second later because _what the hell, what happened?_ "Sorry, I just... Something about you is different." He propped his elbows up on the desk and put a hand underneath his chin, eyes narrowing in suspicion. He knew _exactly_ what was different, but it wasn't like he could just blurt out _'oh, hey, your eyes look like they belong on a corpse.'_ That would be a lot of weird in one sentence, something Roy didn't really want to deal with.

Edward huffed a breath mixed between humor and annoyance. "I think you need glasses, with your old age and all," the blond teased, a mocking tone behind his words. "Because I'm pretty sure I look the exact same since the last time I saw your ugly face." He paused for a second, considering before his signature scowl sharpened his soft features. "If you're making some elaborate short joke right now, I swear to God I'm going to-"

"No, no," Roy waved his hand dismissively. "It's something else. You still are abnormally close to the ground, though, so don't worry about that."

Alphonse, who had been shifting nervously ever since his brother's classic 'threatening of superior officers' had made an appearance, cut him off before he had a chance to retaliate. "I think what the Colonel means, brother, is that he's worried about you."

"Hmm," Roy hummed uncertainly. "That's not quite it." _That's exactly what I mean._

"Yeah, he's just a nosy idiot," Ed stated, ignoring his brother's disapproving, slightly surprised squawk behind him.

"That's not quite it either." The man pulled his elbows off the table and sat up a bit straighter. "Anyways, did something happen?"

Edward raised an eyebrow and let out an undignified "Huh?"

Al spoke up from behind him. "What do you mean, sir?"

"I mean just that."

"Nothing happened," Ed interjected, tone defensive. "Nothing happened and I'm not any different. Now, if you're done being weird, I want my next mission so I can get out of here. You're wasting my time."

Roy narrowed his eyes. He would have _loved_ to just brush the subject off and give Ed the papers he needed so they could both move on with their lives, but something prevented him from doing so. There was some invisible, mental barrier that made questions itch at the back of his mind and just _urged_ him to press further. As if that would get him remotely _anywhere_ with Edward. The kid had a will as strong as steel and there was almost no amount of convincing that could change his mind once it was made up. The knowledge of that fact didn't stop him from wanting to push all sorts of buttons, though.

"I'm being serious, Fullmetal."

"I am, too." Ed's dull eyes scanned Roy's desk before stopping on a stack of papers with his name scrawled across the front. Reaching arrogantly across the cluttered surface, he grabbed for the stack with gloved hands that Roy was sure looked skeletal underneath the material, at least one of them. Mustang was faster, though, and he had his hands on top of the documents before Ed could yank them off of the desk. They played an awkward tug-of-war for a second, both trying to avoid toppling the precariously tall piles of paperwork crowding the desk's surface before the blond growled in utter annoyance, letting go of the papers and slamming his flesh palm down onto the mahogany.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Roy felt a bit stupid as the question hit his ears. How did he even know something was out-of-place, anyway? Logically, the man knew he could be completely and horribly wrong about the whole thing. Emotionally, though, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was right and that he needed to _hurry up and do something about it._ So he pushed his conflicting thoughts aside and pushed deeper. "I feel like you're not the one who should be asking that question."

Ed's entire posture tensed, angry with every inch of his body. He just wanted to get his papers and get out. "Who the _hell_ says something happened? Al and I were just searching for the stone, _as fucking usual_ , so I don't know what to tell you! Back the hell off."

"Don't play dumb, Fullmetal, I'm not completely incompetent."

Just as Ed was opening his mouth to shout back a response, Alphonse stepped closer, speaking up before the argument could get any further. "Nothing happened, sir, I promise," his tinny voice squeaked, unsure of himself and his decision to intervene. He didn't look like he was lying, not that he was the type to lie at all. The armor's glowing eyes were honest, sincere, and a tiny bit shaken from his brother's explosive temper as if he was afraid Ed might get his position revoked or something along the lines. If the young alchemist was under any other commander, he would have been fired a long time ago, so Mustang knows that it's not the panic of being caught in a lie, but the fear his brother might lose his job.

Roy sucked his teeth uncertainly, doubting himself _again_ because he knew Alphonse wasn't lying to him. Okay, maybe he had backed himself into a corner. Maybe he had guessed incorrectly and made the wrong decision of pressuring Ed and demanding him to spill a secret he didn't even have in the first place. Because what if he wasn't hiding something? What if there was nothing wrong at all? Their relationship would be skewed. Ed would think the worst of him, surely, and how long would that last? But as soon as he locked his charcoal eyes with Ed's golden ones, his stomach tightened in a knot that refused to loosen no matter how much he tried to convince himself that he was making the whole situation up, that he was horrendously wrong. Because something was _not right._ It made his chest tighten and chills go up his arms. It gave him such a shocking feeling of anxiety that he almost didn't know what to do with himself.

Because something was so, _so_ horribly off about his subordinate.

And Roy was afraid. That wasn't something he felt terribly often. He had been through too much to feel fear on a regular basis.

But he was scared of what would come if he didn't figure out what was going on. Scared that something horrible was going to happen.

He was afraid.

So he plowed forward.

"Somehow," the man cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the unsettled feeling in his chest. "Somehow, I'm not convinced."

"Damn it, Mustang! Nothing happened so just leave it at that! Now, if you're done _wasting my time,_ " Ed slammed his hand down on Roy's desk for the second time and yanked the set of documents from his grasp. "I'll be going. Our research about the stone is none of your business, so stay the hell out of it," the teen hissed, turning on his heel and storming away, Al trailing apologetically behind him. The door slammed behind the two, and the last thing Roy caught sight of was the tail of Ed's red coat, fluttering in the wake of his aggressive exit.

The Colonel dragged both of his hands down his face, sighing. "I wasn't talking about your research, Fullmetal."

The large mahogany doors creaked open, causing Roy to swiftly pull his hands from his face and search the entrance with his eyes. He half-expected Ed to come through them once again and apologize, spilling the big secret that the man _knew_ he was keeping. But that was simply illogical. Instead, Lieutenant Hawkeye stepped through, looking genuinely confused and slightly alarmed. There was usually never a time that Roy wasn't happy to see Hawkeye, being the romantic that he was. Usually, it was the part of the day he looked forward to when she came into work. Now, though, he was slightly disappointed.

 _That entire confrontation messed me up to the point where I don't even think the Lieutenant can help. I'm not even pleased to see her._

Damn that brat.

"Sir?" Riza stepped forwards, tucking a piece of blonde hair behind her ear. Placing yet another stack of papers on Roy's desk with a dull _thump_ , she questioned, "What was that about?" The woman looked half ready to aim her pistol that was always loaded in her belt at him, probably expecting that he had teased and prodded Ed into storming out in frustration.

If only that were the case.

"I don't know," he sighed, rubbing his face again. "But I'm going to find out."

 **xxx**

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wHeN WiLL yOu LeArN

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tHaT yOuR aCTiOnS hAvE cOnSeQuEncEs

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	2. Chapter 2

Hello again :)

This is the rewritten second chapter, so I hope you enjoy.

BUT FIRST CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW I COPIED ALL OF THE OLD FIC ONTO A DOCUMENT AND IT WAS 60 (SIXTY) PAGES LONG.

60.

PAGES.

LONG.

This is gonna be a long ride.

 **xxx**

 **If the following tags are included in this chapter, they will be in italics and underlined. Please read through all of them in order to stay safely away from your triggers.**

 **DISCLAIMER:** **THIS STORY CONTAINS** ** _SEMI-EXPLICIT LANGUAGE,_ DISCUSSIONS AND DESCRIPTIONS OF DEPRESSION, ANXIETY, GRAPHIC ANXIETY/PANIC ATTACKS, GRAPHIC SELF-HARM, SUICIDE, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, MENTAL ILLNESS IN GENERAL, _PHYSICAL ILLNESS_ ( _EMETO_ ), AND DISCUSSIONS OF DEATH. DO NOT READ THIS STORY IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THESE TOPICS.**

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It took Roy a while to work up the nerve to actually confront Edward.

First of all, he did have a whole lot of evidence to go on. In his own mind he did, but what about in Ed's? If he just went up to the kid and said ' _I think there's something wrong with you because your eyes look dead'_ that wouldn't be a conversation that would end well, and he knew it. There was no good way to handle a difficult situation with a teenager that had the age mentality of an angry toddler, and making it just plain _weird_ wouldn't help. And it was just so _cliche_. What was this, some drama novel? Things like this didn't just happen in real life.

Well, they didn't before this.

The situation had him thinking that drama novels probably weren't far off from the real thing. But that still didn't give him any insight whatsoever as to handle it and approach Edward. He was half-convinced that he should read one of those sickeningly-sweet books just so that he might have somewhat of a clue as to what he was doing.

Because what did he, a hard-trained military man, know about intimate situations such as these? Nothing. He had absolutely no experience with gooey emotions and sickening sympathy. Honestly, it all made the man rather uncomfortable. Talking emotionally with someone, especially Edward Elric of all people, wasn't something that he did often. Hell, it wasn't something he did _ever_. So what was he supposed to do? Roy would rather have brushed it off and not had to deal with the awkward conversation that would have to happen sooner or later between him and his subordinate, but he couldn't get the sight of Ed's eyes out of his mind. It was just _scary as hell._ And he had to do something about it.

It just took a while.

So, five nerve-wracking days later, Mustang found himself at the Elrics' shared dormitory room. The man paced around the hallway, going to and from the door for a good ten minutes before he finally forced himself still, taking a breath.

 _One step at a time. Knock, just knock, and think of the rest later._

His hand was poised to knock on the door when it swung inward, cheap hinges squealing in protest. Alphonse was revealed as the culprit of the action, almost stumbling forward into the man, clearly ready to leave and not expecting someone to be glued to the doorstep. He caught himself on the doorframe, though, metal arm clanging at the contact. Nonexistent eyes widening, the fourteen-year-old squeaking out a tentative, "Oh, Colonel! I didn't see you there, sir." Al laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his helmet, embarrassed. "What are you doing here? Did brother need to come in today? I told him he should have double checked-"

"No, Alphonse, it's not that," Roy interjected, smiling faintly at the boy's flustered state. He really would have been adorable if he were in his normal body. "I was just looking to have a word with Fullmetal. He hasn't done anything wrong." The man hesitated. "That I know of." _I really wish I was lying about that last part._

Alphonse chuckled uneasily at the last statement, but shook it off and chipped, "That works out then, sir. Brother just sent me out to get a few things, so I'll take my time and make sure you have enough time to talk."

"Right, then."

Roy stepped aside and Al ducked out of the doorway, too tall to stand normally. He was about to let the boy walk past and be on his way when he spoke up. "Actually, Alphonse, do you think you could spare a few minutes?"

"Oh!" The fourteen-year-old turned around, visibly a bit surprised. They usually never held full-on, one-on-one conversations without Ed being present; Mustang tucked the thought that he should make more of an effort to interact with the younger Elric into the back of his mind. "Of course, sir. What is it that you need?" He folded his hands politely in front of his metal body, eyes sincere and genuine. Jesus, his eyes looked so young.

"Have you noticed anything... different, per se, about Ful- your brother?" Mustang was trying his hardest to ditch the formal terms and vocabulary he was used to as an attempt to lower the tense, commander-to-subordinate aura that was around the pair. Maybe he could ease the kid into speaking comfortably with him; maybe Al would tell him something he wouldn't be able to find out on his own.

Al hummed, understanding, sort of like he knew that this was about the last conversation they had in Roy's office. "I haven't really noticed anything different about brother..." The boy let his voice trail off, obviously hesitating. "I mean, he has been a little distracted lately and he's been sending me off alone to go get things." He hoisted a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing behind him in order to better explain. "He sleeps a lot and eats less, too. But that's usually normal when he gets back from missions."

Roy nodded, making a noise of confirmation. The things Alphonse were describing really weren't anything out of the ordinary for Edward. "Okay, then. I'll leave you to be on your way."

The boy bowed his head in submission. "Thank you, Colonel. I hope I was of some help."

"You were, Alphonse. Thank you."

The fourteen-year-old smiled with his ruby red eyes and turned, disappearing down the corridor along with the metallic sounds of his footsteps. Roy took a breath and steadied himself. Set his shoulders back. Straightened his spine. Dusted off his uniform. Visibly confident but mentally unsure, he stepped into the small dorm room, gently closing the door behind him. He really needed to get this over with as soon as he could. Something deep down told him that something wasn't right in the way that Edward wasn't safe. He didn't know how, but he could just feel it underneath his skin. Ed somehow, some way, wasn't safe.

Being in the military dorms gave him a strong sense of nostalgia and _deja vu_. The smell of must and stale air brought back memories from when he had lived in them himself many years prior. The rickety twin beds that were painful to sleep on, the small desk in the corner covered completely in scratches and ink marks where it wasn't shaded by papers and books, the minuscule kitchen with four cupboards, the half-functioning stove, the small round table that was strewn with research, and two wobbly chairs. It was identical to the one he had lived in for four years. Edward, though, was nowhere in sight despite the small size of the dorm. Eyes catching the light coming from underneath the bathroom door in the corner of the room, he figured that was the only place left he could be.

Roy strode across the room and took a seat in one of the small, slightly-broken chairs to wait. He figured that demanding Edward to finish his piss so they could talk wouldn't really start the conversation out on a good note. Putting his head in one palm, he drummed his fingers against his chin, thinking. How was he even going to do this? Talk about something that he couldn't back up? It was awkward first of all, and the fact that the young alchemist was so stubborn didn't improve matters. The only thing he was content on doing was handling things for himself and making sure everyone around him knew that he was independent. Mustang didn't know why exactly he was like that - Alphonse was raised in and went through the exact same circumstances and the two brothers had completely opposite personalities. Of course, personality didn't always develop because of circumstance, Roy knew that for sure. But perhaps Ed hadn't been quite so outwardly arrogant and headstrong before the failed transmutation. Maybe it had contributed slightly or even built up over the years.

There was no way to be sure.

The only thing he was sure about, though, was he needed answers. Surely this problem couldn't have been caused by something in the boy's past - even in the midst of his biggest struggle his eyes had been blazing brightly. He hadn't been acting differently, not even since Roy saw the change in his eyes. There were too many possibilities about it or what it had been caused by that it made the man's head spin. He didn't even know where to start and he needed to have this thought out, to play it safe. Edward was clever enough to think something would be amiss from the Colonel's random visit, so perhaps he should get straight to the point instead of prolonging it with small talk. What was there even to talk about, anyway? He didn't even think he had the capacity for casual conversation right then. That only left being firm and resolute with it. He couldn't tiptoe around it, especially when it was Edward he was dealing with.

Just as Mustang was thinking about how long the young alchemist was taking, he heard a throaty, choking cough coming from somewhere to his right. Coming from behind the bathroom door. Just as soon as the first one had sounded, there was another. And then another. It sounded like the coughs were strangling, choking, and inducing dry-heaving; it was like they were erupting from his chest. It sounded _hella painful_ if anything, like it was choking him. Now it was just the sound of awful dry-heaving and gagging which Roy could tell was trying to be suppressed.

The man's heart jumped into his throat at the first disturbance. What if Ed was terminally ill? What if he had some disease without a cure? A fatal sickness? But then he shook the thoughts from his head and got to his feet. There could be no way, right? Surely it wasn't caused by a physical illness. If so, dulled eyes were a strange and unheard of symptom. The noises stopped for a second as Roy neared the door, and he took the opportunity to knock (a little too forcefully... He was a little freaked out, okay?) on the cheap wood.

"Fullmetal?" He could hear his own voice waver so he cleared it. "Is everything alright?"

"Colonel?" Ed's voice was faint from behind the door, strained. "What are you d-" The voice cut off for a second; he could hear the elder Elric holding his breath. After a few seconds, he cleared his throat, seemingly to cover for himself, and finished the sentence breathily. "-doing here?"

"That doesn't matter," Roy clipped, speaking fast. "What's going on?" It startled him that Ed didn't seem to know he had been in the dorm for a good five minutes or even talking _very obviously_ to Alphonse in the doorway. He would have heard something. The man wasn't even trying to be quiet and sneak around either. So what the hell was going on? Ed had responded in surprise and even a little bit of _fear_ \- something that Roy almost never saw in the kid.

"Nothing." The teen's voice was full of air, light and breathy, lacking hostility unlike usual. "I'll be out in a second."

"If you're not out here in five minutes I'm coming in."

There was silence on the other side of the door. No sarcastic response. No anger. Nothing. Just the muffled sounds of labored breathing that was just barely loud enough for him to hear. The man's head swam with concern. How long had Al been running errands by himself? How bad was it that Edward didn't want his brother to know about it? Surely not long enough for Alphonse to catch up with the trend. He was just as smart as his older brother.

Roy was pulled from his frantic thoughts as the door creaked open in front of him; he took a few steps back, preparing for the worst. Edward was standing in the doorway in front of him, arms crossed and shoulders slumped against the door frame, scowling. His face was dramatically pale and all of the color had drained from his lips. There was no sweat on his face, presumably wiped off in a hurry, but it had dampened his bangs and made them stick to his forehead. His eyes were tarnished. God, he was trying so hard to make it seem like there was nothing wrong. _So hard._

This wasn't going to be an easy discussion.

Before Ed could ask why he was there, Roy jumped in. He was concerned and frustrated and _worried_ and he wanted answers. "What was that about, Fullmetal?" The man crossed his arms over his chest, to both look stern and suppress the anxiety building in his chest.

The elder Elric hitched a golden eyebrow. "What was what about?" he questioned back, crossing over to the kitchen and pulling a chipped glass from one of the sparse cabinets to fill it in the sink. He took a hesitant sip and placed it on the table with a loud _thunk._ "I didn't know you needed the details of me taking a piss." A few droplets spilled over the sides of it, gathering at the bottom rim and settling on the table.

"You know what I'm talking about. Didn't you just get sick in there?"

"No," he drawled, leaning back against the edge of the tabletop and crossing his arms. The glare on his face was fierce, and if Roy didn't have such a strong gut feeling he would have dropped the topic right then because, most of the time, it just wasn't worth getting into it. "Why are you even asking me, bastard?"

"I heard you. Don't cover up for yourself."

"I'm fine, I thought I already made that clear," Ed sighed, already exasperated. "And even if I wasn't, it would be none of your damn business anyway. You're my legal guardian, not my father."

That last statement struck Roy somewhere where he didn't even know he could experience pain. It pulled a chord somewhere inside of his chest, a painful little tweak that knocked the breath from his lungs. It confused him and robbed him of speech. _It scared him._ Because where the hell did that come from? Why did it _sting?_ Roy cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders a bit, brushing it off. He didn't have time to figure out why he felt so bitter and uncomfortable about the word "father" projected in his direction or why he was so shaken while his subordinate remained unbothered. "I'm taking you to see a physician."

Ed choked on his water, which he had decided to nurse slowly again a few seconds prior. "What?" he sputtered, slamming the half-full glass on the table and creating a little spray of clear droplets on the surface of it. "Hell no!"

"You can reassure me all you like, Fullmetal, but I'm not buying one damn word. You need a physical health evaluation, anyways, it needs to be renewed. You haven't had a check-up in years." Roy was irritated now. He was trying to _help_ and the kid was making him lie about it. There was no physical exam that was due, not until a few more months, but it was the only thing he could think of right then.

"I was in the hospital just last week for-"

"Injuries don't count. They don't complete full-body examinations."

"This is ridiculous," Ed growled. "I told you I'm fine, shouldn't that be enough? Do you not trust me? Name one time I've lied to you!" Before Roy could tell him _exactly every time Ed had ever lied to his face,_ the boy interrupted. "Never mind, don't answer that."

"Now do you see my point?"

"Okay, whatever. But this still isn't fair. I don't have a damn thing wrong with me so a doctor's visit is a waste of time and money, asshat."

"I'll cover the expenses so don't bitch about it. You've had plenty of time for your research over the last four months, so I'd say that you have earned a few hours to 'waste' as you have so kindly put it. Now come with me, we're leaving."

"No. I refuse to go if there's nothing wrong with me."

A smirk pulled at Roy's lips, forceful and tight. Maybe he could prod the kid into coming without using coercion. "Maybe we will be able to find the cause for your current height."

"Are you calling me small? Are you _seriously_ making a short joke?" His face was paling by the minute and his voice still lacked energy.

"Precisely that." Roy found it easier to study the water droplets spread across the tabletop than face Ed's sickly pallor and dull eyes. "Or is it possible that you're too scared to go?"

"I am _not_." The elder Elric's voice dropped down to a deadly, threatening octave, spilling from his lips like acid. If there was a lower blow to strike against the kid than teasing his height, it was insulting his bravery.

"Prove it, then, Fullmetal."

The boy was now standing, motioning with his hands as he spoke. "No! This is a load of bullcrap!"

"I'm going to have to report you if you don't comply with your superior's orders. Both that and assume that you're some sort of a coward, which I seemed to have known to be false with certainty until now. Stop acting like a child and come with me."

Ed dropped his balled fists down to his side and chewed on the inside of his cheek. It seemed that Roy had won the argument a lot quicker than he had anticipated; he didn't know if it was a good or bad thing. The rage subtly melted from Edward's expression and he leaned back against the table again, rattling the glass. Scowling softly, he rubbed at his forehead with his flesh hand. In that instant, Mustang felt a pang of sympathy for the kid. He must have felt like complete and utter shit for who knows how long and was not only keeping up his usual front but maintaining an argument along with it. He was being confronted about something he was trying to keep hidden, something that was physically and mentally affecting him. Roy didn't blame him for giving up. In fact, he even felt _bad_ for fighting with him over it.

Edward sighed and dropped his hand down into his lap. "You're not going to leave me alone about this, are you?" He sounded tired, defeated even.

"That's correct."

"Fine. I guess I don't have a choice." Ed pushed himself off the table unsteadily and rummaged around in the desk drawer. "Let me leave a note for Al and then I'll go." He pulled a crumpled piece of paper and a pen from the drawer and scrawled a message in his usual unruly handwriting that read _out with the bastard, be back later._ He tossed the note on the cluttered table, grabbing his coat from where it was draped across one of the chairs and trudging out of the room, pointedly ignoring Mustang's presence. Roy took a breath and followed suit, shutting the door behind him.

He prayed that all of his assumptions were wrong.

xxx

Hello there! I'm intensely sorry that this took so long to come out. It's been a rough month that I can't even begin to get into. Lots of issues have come up but I'm learning how to deal with them and I'm hoping to move on soon. I have some more inspiration, though, so expect the rest of this to be out in the near future :)

Thank you for reading, lovely, stay safe.


	3. Chapter 3

Hey! Welcome to chapter three. I can't wait to get to the good part of this story, so I'm going to try my best to fly through these until it gets there.

 **xxx**

Edward looked about ready to book it as the pair reached Roy's military-issued car and the Colonel trailed close behind him to make certain he didn't run. He honestly wasn't in the mood for a chase down the parking lot.

"You know what," Ed piped, slowing his pace. "On second thought-"

"Don't even consider it," Mustang interjected. "Don't make me shove your small ass in there, because I'm not afraid to do it."

"Call me small one more time and I swear to God-" Ed swung the car door open, sulked inside, and slammed it shut. The man sighed and opened his own door, taking his seat behind the wheel. Ed was sitting low in his seat, arms crossed over his chest, scowling out of the dashboard window. This was going to be a difficult evening, Roy could tell. He started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, feeling the engine hum underneath him as he turned around the curb. Out of the corner of his eye, Mustang could see Ed sit up the tiniest bit straighter, pressing his forehead against the window. Another turn and he was rigid, staring straight ahead at the road. At the third, he had his hands gripping the headrest above him, breathing heavily through his nose. A few audible swallows later and Roy was honestly praying that the kid wouldn't puke in his car.

"And here you claim to be fine." Roy gave him a once-over and sucked at his teeth. Edward was pale, much more than before, and trembling ever-so-slightly. A light film of sweat shone across his forehead as he licked his dry, colorless lips.

"'M just pissed," he breathed, swallowing convulsively again and squeezing his eyes shut against the glare of the sun on the car windshield.

 _Yeah, you look like you're pissed more than you're trying not to vomit in my car._

Roy didn't say anything else, figuring that conversation probably wasn't the best thing for his subordinate at the moment. He was cautious with his driving, going slower than was necessary on turns and gently swerving around bumps and potholes to help Ed keep the control he was very obviously fighting for. He wanted to avoid a mess if at all possible, and taking another glance at Ed made him think that it was becoming more and more of a possibility.

Despite the slightly unnerving situation he was in, the man's mind wandered back to their earlier conversation.

 _You're my legal guardian, not my father._

The sentence was insignificant, in all actuality. It honestly didn't matter in the slightest. But then why couldn't he keep tracing a mental finger over it, going over it again and again and again? Why did he care so much? No matter how much he questioned it, the sting didn't go away. The little painful tweak that was burrowed in the left side of his chest, underneath his ribs, next to his lungs. It wasn't enough to be seriously painful, just enough to emotionally pester him and make him uncomfortable. It made him think about it, something he really didn't want to do. There were more important things to attend to than ponder some petty insult. But it was simply the fact that it _was_ an insult that made it bothersome.

Roy couldn't place why, when he had heard hundreds of obscurities hurled his way by Edward, this comment unhinged him so. Ed most definitely hadn't given it a second thought, so surely it wasn't intended to be a bit more hurtful than usual.

And why should he take into consideration anything that the young alchemist tried to prod him with? The kid did nothing but give him problem after problem as if just to _prove_ how much of a brat he was and show just how difficult he could make Roy's life. It was ridiculous. None of it made sense, not even the situation he was in. It was like he was repeatedly putting two and two together and kept getting five. Even though he calculated it again and again and again, he got an answer that he knew was wrong but _had to be right._ Right? Because how many times could he get it wrong in his calculations?

He wanted to help Edward. He wanted to figure him out and protect him and just _be there._ He wanted to know what was wrong with him and what he was dealing with and why he looked so lifeless.

 _And it didn't make sense._

Was it because he knew Ed grew up without a father? Or that he had had no present adult figure in his life since he was ten? Maybe because he had no friends his age, no one to confide in other than his brother whom he would rather keep in the dark?

Whatever the cause, it made him feel weird and disoriented. It felt _strange._ Like a surge of energy in his chest, spreading throughout his limbs. He couldn't push it away. He couldn't ignore it. No matter how much he willed it away and tried to focus on other, more important things, he couldn't shake the mixture of pain and warmth burrowed in the left side of his chest, underneath his ribs, next to his lungs.

In his heart.

Wasn't he supposed to be stoic? Strong? Unfeeling and strict? Hadn't he been that way for as long as he could remember?

That persona melted away when he took another glance at the boy sitting next to him. Ed's sleek blond hair was stuck to his face and he had the headrest above him in a death grip; his arms were shaking. His golden pupils were hidden underneath lightly-closed pale lids as he puffed air through his nose between convulsive swallows. He looked _miserable._ It made Roy's chest feel tight with concern, and he honestly wanted nothing more than to say something or brush the hair from his face or deliver a touch of comfort or _something_ to soothe him and distract him from how horrible he must have felt. Instead, he forced himself to grip the steering wheel tighter. Edward would kill him if he acted on his strange parental impulses anyway.

A few long minutes later, Roy pulled into a commonly-known military doctor's office, parking in front of the off-white building. The place was meant only to treat adults, since children never, save Ed, joined the military, so the Colonel knew it would take a good amount of convincing on his part to have a doctor examine Edward. Military or no, the rules of the office were strict and wouldn't let anyone outside of the age requirements be seen. Perhaps he could bribe him.

The Colonel slowly pressed on the brake and pulled into a parking space; before he had even fully come to a stop, Ed was practically scrambling from his seat and launching himself out of the car, slamming the door behind him. Roy's heart jumped into his throat for a second, thinking that Edward was going to be sick, but by the time he had jumped out of his side of the car, he saw the young alchemist leaning against the side of the car, crossing his arms over his chest. Trying to play it cool. Roy sighed and rubbed his face. This kid was taking years off of his life for sure.

He started for the entrance, hearing Ed following behind. He seemed to mostly have recovered; his face gained a little more color and his hands were no longer trembling. Pushing open the door to the small, hospital-like clinic, Roy hoped that it was a good sign. Ed sulked in behind him.

* * *

Roy sat heavily into the leather seat of his car as Edward slammed closed the door to his right.

 _That._

 _Was._

 _A._

 _Disaster._

He started up the car angrily, not even trying to attempt to speak to the boy sitting next to him. He was half-tempted to make him walk back to the barracks just because of how much of a _brat_ he had just been.

First of all, the physical had straight-up _refused_ to examine Ed. He was under the age limit. Even though he was a member of the military, the man gave absolutely no leeway. Fifteen was too young and the only thing that convinced the doctor that it wasn't was a bribe. With a quarter of his monthly pay.

 _A quarter!_

After the ordeal, they were taken back to an examination room and Roy explained what little symptoms he knew the young alchemist was experiencing while Ed protested. _Violently._ Apparently, nothing Roy said was true and he was a lying son of a bitch that had nothing better to do than drag him around and use his military power to make him submit to his will. Thankfully, the doctor didn't buy into it; Roy didn't think he could will himself into sacrificing any more money than he already had. While the doctor was frustratingly trying to examine Ed, who was visibly ill, he made a remark out of sheer irritation. _But of course, it had to be about his height._

 _But of course._

Mustang was sure he had never been as embarrassed as he was then. It was like he was hauling around a five-year-old who had never been disciplined a day in his life. _He was basically holding back a fifteen-year-old back by the collar._ That was something that honestly he never thought he would do, but he had been experiencing a lot of firsts lately so he wasn't surprised.

The problems didn't stop after he got the kid in check, though. His automail broke the scale he was being weighed with ( _goodbye, this month's paycheck!_ ). The doctor gave up on him after he refused to admit to experiencing any symptoms and simply prescribed him with an antibiotic shot. Ed refused. Roy threatened him. Ed refused _again._ The doctor left out of frustration to prepare the injections. Roy, _done with the entire shit show,_ shoved Edward down into one of the office chairs and threatened him within an inch of his life.

Then Ed did something confusing. Something that Roy probably would have been more concerned about was he not so profusely angry. The tiny alarm bells going off in the back of his head were covered up and drowned out by the obscenities scrawling through his thoughts.

When the doctor came back, accompanied by a nurse (supposedly to hold the hell-raiser down), Ed didn't put up much of a fight, which was both surprising and _hella relieving_ at the same time. The young alchemist was hesitant when they approached him as if he didn't know what to do. He looked around and bounced his knee and chewed at the inside of his cheek, all with a scowl on his face. The doctor didn't look like he knew what to do, either; he looked half-afraid that Edward would bite his hand off if he tried anything. Roy stepped in, wanting to get the hell out of there as fast as he could so that he could properly discipline his subordinate without being called out for the mental abuse of a child.

"Fullmetal, you take that jacket off and let him give you this injection _right this second_ before I decide to do it myself."

That took a visible effect on him. His expression went dark for a moment, dark in the kind of hopeless way. After a second of hesitation, Edward began to maneuver his arm out of his overshirt, unbuttoning it from where it was hooked in place and pulling his limb out - while it was still inside of the sleeve of his large red coat. His arm was never exposed, but he managed to struggle through the process of getting his extremity out of one sleeve while keeping it in the other. He pulled his coat around his bare shoulder, flinched at the injection, and then they were on their way.

It was _weird._ The whole thing was weird. It was just... suspicious. Roy was angry and suspicious and it was _weird_ and none of those things made a good combination. The Colonel was bristling when he got in the car. He wanted his questions answered and he wanted them now. As he pulled out of the parking lot and back onto the street, he turned to his subordinate, mouth already open and half-ready to start scolding the kid within an inch of his life when he halted; Ed was asleep against the window, arms crossed over his chest.

The anger dissipated just the smallest bit and replaced itself with a strong sense of empathy. Kids his age should be fooling around, staying out late, flirting with girls, causing trouble - not searching for some mythical object in order to relieve the guilt he lived with on a daily basis. It wasn't fair. None of it was, not in any sense.

Roy observed as shadows cast by streetlights danced across the boy's sleeping face, highlighting his features in the rapidly-diminishing sunlight. He looked so handsome, so peaceful. And Mustang was bitter about that. He knew nothing about life was fair, not any aspect of it, but it still left a bitter taste in his mouth when he thought about just how much the young alchemist had suffered through.

The Colonel came to a stop at a streetlight, taking the chance to get a better look at his subordinate and stew pointlessly over things that he couldn't change. Edward's face was blank, clear of any sort of scowl or expression of anger, glowing and adorned with freshly revealed moonlight. He processed it and chewed at his lip. No one would have known of his past if they were to see him right in that moment. No one would have known that he suffered through his mother's slow and agonising death or that his father left him. They wouldn't know the taboo he committed or that he robbed his own brother of a bodily form. They wouldn't know he carried the title of being an official military lapdog at the age of twelve. They would have had no clue.

Roy sighed and fixed Ed's jacket a little tighter around him, correcting where it sagged open. The action provoked the remembrance of the feat the kid had pulled at the office. He was hiding something, on his arms specifically.

A gnarled, twisted thought jumped to the front of his mind and the man almost slammed on the breaks from sheer surprise and disgust. Because, no.

That was irrational.

There was no way that was going on with Edward.

That was _not_ the reason he was so intent on covering his forearm.

It wasn't. It couldn't be.

So he shook it off and continued to drive because that was not what was going on, he was _sure of it._

He had never been more wrong in his life.

 **xxx**

Hey there :)

Sorry for the wait. It might be a while between chapters seeing as I'm at the point where I have so much anxiety that my anxiety is giving my anxiety anxiety.

ALSO I DID VERY MINIMAL EDITING ON THIS CHAPTER SO I'M SORRY EHHH ( ~ Д ~)y

Anyways, I'm really excited about this story. Like, really. I have a colossal plot twist in store, so keep on the lookout.


	4. Chapter 4

Heyy :)

I'm back again~ I apologize that these are taking so long to come out. It's been super busy lately and I know that I say that every time but it's just ahHHH-

SO I'M TRYING HARDER TO GET THESE OUT FASTER.

ENJOY THE CHAPTER, LOVELY.

 **xxx**

 **If the following tags are included in this chapter, they will be in italics and underlined**

 **DISCLAIMER:** **THIS STORY CONTAINS** ** _SEMI-EXPLICIT LANGUAGE,_ DISCUSSIONS AND DESCRIPTIONS OF DEPRESSION, ANXIETY, GRAPHIC ANXIETY/PANIC ATTACKS, _GRAPHIC SELF-HARM,_ SUICIDE, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, _MENTAL ILLNESS IN GENERAL, (MENTIONED) PHYSICAL ILLNESS (EMETO),_ AND DISCUSSIONS OF DEATH. DO NOT READ THIS STORY IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THESE TOPICS.**

 **xxx**

Roy was one hundred percent positive that he wouldn't be able to carry Ed and his two metal prosthetics up four flights of stairs. Even if he was completely certain about that, he was also _dead set about not waking Edward up._ He one hundred-and- _ten_ -percent-certainly did _not_ want to wake him up. That would be a disaster waiting to happen. A sleeping Fullmetal he could deal with. An irritated, ill, and freshly-awoken Fullmetal he couldn't.

So he was half-tempted to just break his back carrying him up the stairs to his dorm. Mustang really didn't want to deal with the consequences of having the kid conscious. Maybe he would be irritated right off the bat, maybe he wouldn't let him back into the apartment, maybe he wouldn't talk to him. But maybe he _would._ Mustang felt guilty at the thought of taking advantage of his weakened and vulnerable state, but if it was what he had to do then he would do it. He would do it...

Gathering his courage, the Colonel reached over and gently shook the blond's shoulder. He made no signs of stirring; Ed must have really been out of it.

"Fullmetal." Roy shook his arm a bit more. The kid's head lolled to the side. "Get your short ass out of my car." He was hoping that the word 'short' would trigger something in him but he remained motionless. A tiny flame of panic sparked inside his chest. " _Fullmetal._ "

 _Finally,_ he stirred. Ed made a small noise of protest in the back of his throat and cracked one eye open before the other. After a few seconds, his eyes drifted up to Roy's face and stayed there for a moment before he jolted slightly in his seat, eyes widening. It was like he had just now processed just who he was seeing and what he was doing there - maybe not even the latter. The kid just looked really confused. He made a noise, alarmed, and sat up straighter. "Colonel," he quipped, trying his _damnedest_ to look not confused about the situation that he now seemed stuck in. Ultimately, the young alchemist failed. "Uh." Edward cleared his throat, eyes focused on what seemed anywhere but Mustang's face.

 _He doesn't know what's going on, God._

"My car, Fullmetal," Roy deadpanned, "Get out of it."

Ed scoffed and fumbled with his seatbelt. "I knew that, bastard," he mumbled under his breath.

The Colonel was so close to being happy with the fact that the kid's temper wasn't explosive like he had expected, but that must have meant that something was wrong with him. Right? Any other day it would have been a different story entirely.

Roy followed suit and stepped out of the vehicle, shutting the door and locking it behind him. Edward was a few paces ahead of him, head low and hands shoved deep into the pockets of his red coat. The pair made their way into the tall military dorm building, one that Roy was mildly disappointed the two Elrics had to live in. It's not like they were ever in the same place for long so a permanent home would be ultimately useless. They would never be around to enjoy it.

Ed still had yet to ask why Roy was following him to his dormitory, something that caused his concern to climb even further. Normally he would have jumped at the chance to get away from the Colonel. " _I don't like your smug bastard face_ ," he always said. So why wasn't he acting the same way now?

On the second flight of stairs, Ed caught the toe of his boot against one of the concrete steps, stumbling and gripping at the railing as he pitched forwards. Roy was at side with a hand on his shoulder before he realized what he was doing. Edward shoved him away sloppily, facing him with anger in his eyes.

 _There it is._

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing? Don't touch me, I can walk on my own!"

"Obviously you can't!" Roy spat. "You're lagging behind and stumbling. You almost just fell down the staircase!"

"Whatever! Just shut up..," Ed mumbled, turning around and starting back up the stairs. The fire had died down just like that. His behavior was erratic and nothing like it usually was. Stunned, Mustang followed after him. He would rather walk behind him in the strong possibility that the kid fell back down the stairs.

After climbing two more sets of stairs in tense, awkward silence, the pair had reached the Elric residence. Edward didn't ask when Mustang followed him in but simply looked around for his brother instead. He found a note in Al's place, scrawled neatly on the back of Ed's previous one that read " _I had to pick up more books, I'll be back soon. Don't forget to eat."_ The young alchemist eyed a freshly-wrapped sandwich that laid on the counter, crumbling up the note and tossing it into the overflowing waste bin in the corner of the room. Skeptical golden eyes floated in the direction of the colonel, blond eyebrows pulled into a glare.

"You can leave now."

A part of Roy was almost relieved that he had remembered Roy's presence and responded as he usually would. He wasn't leaving any time soon, though. Roy needed _something_ to come out of the day, at least some sort of something that didn't just confirm the suspicions that he already had. "I was planning to have a word with your brother first," Roy replied, working his arms out of his coat. Al seemed to have cleaned up the table from where his brother spilled it earlier and the glass was now drying on the counter; it made Mustang's heart warm just the littlest bit. Alphonse really did love his brother.

Edward snorted. "Oh, so he can tell you something I won't?" He crossed his arms over his chest.

"Precisely." The Colonel draped his coat neatly over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. "It seems like you refuse to admit anything so we're forced to do this the hard way. You're too arrogant."

The fifteen-year-old rolled his eyes and rubbed a hand over his forehead. "Shut up. Go take a hard look in the mirror if you wanna see arrogant." He shrugged out of his own jacket, throwing it lazily on the bed. His footing was uneven.

Roy was trying his best to keep his poker face while internally he felt his insides sour. Something was wrong. Ed's words were slurring ever-so-slightly and he still had no balance. He _prayed_ that the kid was just tired or something - thinking anything else was too much to deal with. So he crossed his arms over his chest and replied, "I'm staying until Alphonse returns and nothing you say is going to change that, Fullmetal."

"Fine. Do whatever you want but don't expect any special treatment from me." Ed crossed the room and fumbled with the bathroom door a few times before he actually got it open. "Now, if you're done wasting my time, I'm taking a shower." He disappeared in the doorway and slammed the door before Roy could say anything in response, leaving him drowning in a pool of his own doubt and concern. Something wasn't right and he knew it. The uneasy feeling in his gut was growing apprehensively and showed no signs of leaving any time soon.

Why in the hell would the kid be slurring? And why now, all of a sudden? He wanted to know so he could just deal with it. He wanted to be able to face it head-on instead of being left sitting in the dark. That was a thousand times easier than what he was doing currently. Why wouldn't he just _talk to him?_ He was right there. Right there showing his concern. His brother was there, too. Right in front of him, showing his love, making food that he couldn't eat and cleaning up water he couldn't drink. Because he loved his brother. So _why_ couldn't Ed see that and _why_ couldn't he just _talk to someone?_ Of course, Edward had never been easy, and Roy never expected him to be, but this was surpassing the Colonel's tolerance limit. He was out of options and it left him with nothing but unanswered questions that burned at the back of his throat.

Defeated, Mustang crossed the room and took a seat on the unmade bed, springs creaking underneath his weight. He ran his gloved hands over his face and was mildly surprised when he felt them catch on his skin. He hadn't shaved that morning, it seemed - he must have forgotten. That was strange in and of itself; he didn't think he had _ever_ forgotten to shave in his entire adult career. What threw him for an even bigger loop was that Ed didn't point it out. He was one of the most detail-oriented people Mustang knew and he didn't seem to notice his rough, unshaven face.

Roy honestly just wanted to hit something.

The questionable incidents were literally piling on top of each other now and he could literally _feel_ the life draining out of him.

Not that he was angry with Ed over it. It was more frustration that blossomed from concern. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, it was nice to have someone to care about for once. He had grown up _not_ caring, not at all. Sure, he had people whom he loved, but this felt different. He _did not let himself believe it,_ but it felt different. It felt domestic and intimate. Not romantic, but not platonic either. Sort of like... an annoying kid brother. But that didn't completely fit the description, either. Maybe more like a son-

Roy was startled at the thought because that was _so fucking stupid, what am I even thinking. I don't want that,_ he _doesn't want that. No._

They didn't like each other. That was a very well-known fact to everyone, so why was he making up some lovey-dovey scenario that didn't make the slightest bit of sense?

The gentle yet uneven sound of water hitting tile (thankfully) broke his thoughts. Just to make sure Edward wasn't getting sick and using the sound of the shower to cover it up, he stood from the bed and took his place next to the locked bathroom door. He wanted to be close enough to hear something, if there even was anything to hear in the first place.

The only reason he noticed the absence of changing sound was because he was listening intently. There was no movement behind the door, not even underneath the stream of water. What was Ed doing? Surely he would have to check the temperature of the water. Roy would be able to hear that, and he wasn't hearing _anything_ other than the steady stream of the shower which was uninterrupted by the usual sound of a moving body.

Something stirred in Roy's chest, panicked.

A loud thud coming from behind the door made the man jump. Imminently, he whipped around and faced the fake mahogany. "Fullmetal?" He thrust his fist upon the door, one, two, three times. Air trapped itself in his lungs as he waited on a response.

He didn't get one.

"Fullmetal! What happened?" Mustang banged on the door a few more times, just for good measure it seemed. The only answer he got was the steady noise of the shower as the stream of water hit porcelain. His blood was ice. "Open this door, Major!"

 _You're not going to get an answer, what the fuck are you doing?_

Roy ripped off his gloves and wrestled with the doorknob.

 _I have to get in, I have to get in, I have to get in._

It didn't open or even budge, for that matter. Without missing a beat he was rearing back and aiming a swift kick right above the handle, right over the lock. The door cracked, splintering, and swung inwards. The man was inside in seconds.

Edward was draped against the bathtub, his unconscious body drenched in hot water from the shower that was still running. Blood dripped over the porcelain and swirled down the drain, leaking from his temple. His shirt was halfway off like he was in the process of undressing and the skin of his chest was ice-cold to the touch. Roy skidded to his knees and hoisted the kid onto his lap, tapping his cheek in an attempt to get him conscious.

What the _hell_ had happened?

"Fullmetal? Edward, wake up." His head was buzzing and he could barely even process what was happening. It scared him a little, his own response to the situation. He was _always_ calm and collected in these situations. What was wrong with him?

If it were anyone else, if it were anyone else, if it were anywhere else...

He took a breath and steadied himself, mentally going over protocol. _Check for trauma, Roy, that's first._ Obvious injury to the head, most likely a concussion. He hit right on the soft spot on the temple which would hurt like a bitch later. _Cause of trauma, what's the cause?_ The room was hot, suffocating, and the steam made him feel like it was suppressing the oxygen in the room. The kid probably fainted and knocked himself out cold when he fell. _Right, that's right. A_ _ssess the health of the patient. How bad off is he?_ Roy swore under his breath and reached for the kid's wrist to check his pulse and-

His breath caught in his throat as his stomach bottomed out.

No. No, no, no. That wasn't right.

That was not right.

He had to be seeing something else, he had to be.

Roy was immediately frozen on the spot. The room wasn't hot anymore - it was freezing cold and the sound of the shower roared in his ears.

Long scars, delicate and thin, stretched out along the length of his upper forearm. The milky white lines, the dozens of them ( _the dozens?_ ), caught the overhead fluorescent lights and Roy felt something hot creeping up his throat. Some of them were pink and raw, some were healed and glazed, but others were an angry, fiery red, inflamed and scabbed over. From the elbow to the center of the forearm they ran, like panicked, disorganized scratches fanning across the boy's pale, cold skin.

Mustang couldn't think, couldn't even...

What the hell had he _done?_

 _What had he done?_

He frantically searched for other options. There had to be a logical explanation, there had to be.

But there wasn't and Roy knew that from the _second_ he saw it. He didn't accept it, he didn't want to, because it didn't fucking make _sense!_ Except it _did_.

Where had the boy gone that Roy knew was stronger than steel? Where had the boy gone who was firey with determination? Where had he gone?

Because this was not him. This wasn't. This was a boy with dull eyes that did the unthinkable to himself. He always liked to imagine that Edward was stronger than to give in, to entertain his weakness and dark fantasies. He never thought he would take it out on himself. In other ways, sure - he was reckless, reckless for a reason - but never like this. He never thought that the confident, strong-willed, stubborn kid he had known from the age of ten would commit such an act. Commit such an act without so much as a whisper for help, like he was too weak to ask for what he needed. Pride had destroyed him, emotions had destroyed him, and guilt had destroyed him. It was a fantasy to Roy, it all didn't seem real.

Except it was.

It was all too real and the image of the array of marks on Ed's arm was forever seared painfully into Roy's mind.

He could taste bile on his tongue and unshed tears that burned behind his eyes but _he was not going to vomit and he was not going to cry and he was not going to break down because that was not what he needed to do._

He needed to help the kid. No matter what he felt.

So he cradled the back of Edward's head, feeling his long, loose hair wet against his hand. He hooked a hand behind his knees and back and carried him out of the room, away from the roar of the pipes and heat of the water. The Colonel laid him out on the bed, working his shirt all the way off and propping up his head. But all too soon he was choking on his own spit and saliva was foaming in his mouth as he struggled to breathe, still unconscious. Roy turned him onto his side and wiped around his mouth with the shirt he still was clutching in his trembling fist. Ed was covered in either sweat or a spray of water, most likely both. If he was, why was he freezing cold?

It was like he was going through the motioned trained into the military part of his brain, not feeling, not processing. None of it felt real. He turned off the shower and phoned an ambulance. He couldn't even remember what he said if he tried. He sat next to Edward while he waited on the medics, feeling the heat on his forehead and seeing the labored heaving of his chest.

How had things come to this?

Roy brushed the wet hair from Ed's face. He wanted to yell at the kid. He wanted to scream. He wanted to get angry and get violent and show that this was in no way okay. That this was not what he should have resorted to. Roy himself knew that better than anyone.

He saw when the medics arrived, heard the sirens, felt as he stood to make room for them. He didn't _feel_ any of it, though. He saw them bring up a stretcher and lift Edward up onto it, saw as his heal lolled lifelessly to the side, saw them work around him.

Edward's flesh hand stuck out limply over the side of the stretcher, covered in cuts and pale. It broke Roy's trance; he reached out to grab it.

He held onto Edward's hand all the way down the stairs, as they were loaded into the ambulance, and all the way to the hospital.

He was afraid to let go.

 **xxx**

Sdkdjkdkkdjk I love this story so much AHH.

I AM SO EXCITED TO GET FURTHER IN THIS, HELP.

And can I just say that I love the headcanon that Roy goes all "aghsdghafjahsjahdaj" and his brain momentarily shuts down when he thinks about having a relationship with Ed and I am _sweating all the details out of that shit_. Just the idea that he rejects the idea and denies his own feelings at first makes me so soft, it isn't fair :'( I don't have words to describe it aghsjdhfkld I love them more than I love myself.

I really want to have this stuff out faster than what's happening right now, but all of my classes are totally kicking my ass. College classes suck, everybody. But once midterms are over and Christmas break comes up, I'll have a lot more time to write.

Thanks for sticking with me :) Have a nice day.


	5. Chapter 5

I would like to thank everyone who is reading this and supporting my writing. It honestly means more than I can say.

YAJJ: You have been following this story for a long time now. You always leave such heartfelt reviews and honestly they make me melt :') You're too sweet and too nice to me, haha. But seriously, thank you for staying with this confusing mess of a rewrite and being so enthusiastic about it as it goes along. Thank you. (Happy holidays, too!)

Orbitlola: Thank you so much for the sweet reviews and reminders! You remind me not to overwork myself and do this on my own time, and I can't thank you enough. I'm usually consumed by the idea that people are waiting for me to write, but through your reviews, you have let me know to put my health first. Thank you so much, hon. The occasional reviews that you drop make me smile so wide.

For everyone else who I have not mentioned: Thank you. Thank you for reading this and getting to this point. I have worked really hard to please you all and to get this out, and the fact that you have followed/reviewed/favorited/read this means so much to me, beyond words. Thank you all. It's you that keeps me writing.

Please read the end for an important A/N.

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 **If the following tags are included in this chapter, they will be in italics and underlined**

 **DISCLAIMER:** **THIS STORY CONTAINS** ** _EXPLICIT LANGUAGE,_ _DISCUSSIONS AND DESCRIPTIONS OF DEPRESSION,_ ANXIETY, GRAPHIC ANXIETY/PANIC ATTACKS, GRAPHIC _SELF-HARM_ _, SUICIDE, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, MENTAL ILLNESS IN GENERAL, (MENTIONED) PHYSICAL ILLNESS (EMETO), AND DISCUSSIONS OF DEATH. DO NOT READ THIS STORY IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THESE TOPICS._**

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Edward was still unconscious for a few hours after arriving at the hospital which gave the doctors a little bit of time to do their work without the boy's aggressive protests. The hospital was surprisingly fairly empty so they were able to get a holding room to themselves, which was the best Roy could hope for.

The nurses took blood and ran numerous other tests, which would take a while to get results from, but from what they could tell Ed was only malnourished, mildly dehydrated, and fighting off some small virus. No strep, no flu, nothing serious from what they could tell. He had an IV drip to stabilize his electrolytes and to get some actual nutrition into him.

Roy knew they would ask about the cuts. He knew they would and he dreaded every second of it until they did. While an intern was finding a vein for the IV, a nurse pulled him to the side and asked if the kid's current medical situation had anything to do with what they found on his arm. Did he have a history of depression or mental illness? Was the self-harm reoccurring? Had he purposefully injured himself and disguised it as fainting?

...Did he need to be moved to a psych ward?

Roy didn't know the answers to any one of the questions. He wanted to say no to the last one, because Edward did _not_ need to be moved to a psychiatric ward, but he really didn't know. He didn't know any of it.

After a half-hour of brutal questioning, Roy found himself in the chair next to Edward's hospital bed.

Nothing made sense anymore.

Why hadn't he thought of this sooner? It was obvious. It was so obvious. Was it because he was fifteen? Because someone so young shouldn't have to deal with those problems. But how much trauma had he gone through, how much mental torment? And how much was he going through now?

If even one person had known, had guessed, had asked, maybe this would have been different. Maybe Ed wouldn't have suffered as much.

 _If you had fucking noticed we wouldn't even be here._

Roy blamed himself completely. How had he, _someone who had held a gun to his head_ , not noticed that was what Ed was longing for? He hadn't been around to see the signs or the symptoms or check up on the kid when he should have. It didn't matter that they were away for months, he should have called. He should have demanded a report back to Central. He should have done something.

The rustling of sheets is what broke his gaze from where it was glued to his boots; Roy looked over to see Edward clumsily tugging at his IV, trying to pull it out of his arm. Roy was on his feet in seconds, grabbing his hand even though he didn't feel worthy to even touch the kid. "What are you doing, Fullmetal?"

Ed's eyebrows pulled together, registering Roy's presence before he spoke. "Quit it, asshole." He weakly pulled his wrist from Roy's grip. "Why is this thing even in me?" The blond's voice was rough and hoarse-sounding. Discreetly, Ed pulled his arm into his side, covering it with his hospital gown. It made Roy grimace and look away.

"You passed out and hit your head. You probably have a concussion, Fullmetal. Speaking of that, you need a consult-" he started to stand from his seat, motioning towards the door, but Ed stopped him.

"I what? When did this happen?"

Sighing, Roy sat back down. "You went to shower when we got back to your apartment and I found you passed out on the floor. You were unresponsive to stimulus so I called the ambulance; you've been out for a couple hours."

Edward touched the bandages wrapped around his head, looking confused but still understanding before his face contorted with a glare. "You shouldn't have called an ambulance. I'm fine, I don't need this."

The raven-haired man was stunned. He forgot his guilt for just a second and let his anger and emotions take over. "Wh- Are you kidding me? You were unconscious and bleeding from your head!"

"Wait, wait a second," Edward said, holding up a finger. "I locked the door so why the _hell_ were you in there?"

"I heard you collapse and you were unresponsive! What was I supposed to do, leave you in there?" Roy was getting defensive now, something he didn't want to happen.

"Yes!" Edward's voice was raised, exasperated. "You know what, you can leave now. I don't want you here."

It struck him somewhere inside of his chest; he wasn't insulted, wasn't hurt. It's just that _Edward expected him to leave? He really expected him not to care enough to help him?_

"You wish I was leaving, Fullmetal. I'm your legal guardian and I'm not leaving anytime soon."

"God," Edward scoffed, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest, specifically leaving his left arm underneath the right one. "I'm not a child anymore, Mustang, so stop treating me like one! I can handle this without your help."

Did he really believe that? Did he really think he had it 'handled'? Or did he know he didn't? Roy couldn't tell; he couldn't tell anything anymore. Just two hours ago he had been so confident in his detail-oriented, perceptive abilities. He had been so sure that this was not the case. But look where that had gotten both him and Edward - broken and guilty. And it was his fault. But that didn't mean he could just leave. He had a responsibility with this kid. Edward needed someone there, whether that person was worthy of it or not. Whether he hated himself or not. Whether he had caused it or not. _He needed someone there._

Roy cleared his throat. "You're a minor so I cannot legally leave you here until your brother arrives."

Edward hitched an eyebrow up at the mention of his brother, relief just barely seeping through his features. "Al? Where is he, isn't he supposed to be here?"

Mustang didn't say anything and continued to look past Edward's head, anywhere but his face or his eyes. He was angry both with himself and with the kid which was confusing enough as it was; the last thing he needed was something else on top of that.

" _Where is he?_ " The boy's tone was sharp. "You said I was out for a while. Where's Al?"

"I haven't called him yet." Roy wasn't ready for this conversation, he wasn't ready. But there was no time left to stall, nothing else meaningless left to say.

"You haven't _what?!_ " Ed was practically shouting now. His soft features were turned sharp in anger, frustration, and a little bit of _fear_. Like he _knew_ that Roy knew or that he could find out or something that threatened him enough to make his skin flush with visible goosebumps.

The Colonel dragged his bare hands down his face and cupped his forehead in his hand, sighing. "Listen, Fullmetal." His tone was soft, trembling, afraid, comforting - all of the above. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

Edward froze immediately at his words. There was panic in his eyes for half a second, and for that half a second he thought the kid was going to tell him, be open with him. For half a second, tense, terrible fear and condemnation settled over the blond and he looked _so close_ to just word-vomiting all of the shit he had been dealing with, dealing with alone for who knows how long.

But then his eyes glazed over and he unfroze even though he knew he had been caught and someone knew about the act he had committed. His gaze met Roy's, sharp and angry. "No! Why do you keep asking me shit like this? Just back the hell off and leave me alone!"

It was going to be like that, was it? Roy found himself getting angry with the kid - help was _right there, right in front of him._ And he wasn't taking it. He was blatantly denying what he needed to fix his problem. _Blatantly denying it._ What Roy himself would have given to have someone when _he_ was in the same position, when _he_ was trying to off himself, was immeasurable. And he did get that - he got support from Maes and from Riza and it was the best thing that could have possibly happened. So why the hell was this kid not taking what he was being given? Roy wasn't the best option and he knew that, but it was what was being presented. It was what the circumstances were and Ed should be taking advantage of that.

So if it was going to be like that, Roy was fine with it. They could do it the hard way.

Mustang was up from his seat before Ed could react, reaching over the hospital bed and wrenching the kid's wrist away from his body. "What the _hell_ is this, then?" Edward immediately reacted, shoving him away with much more force than was needed and clutching his arm, his horrifyingly-decorated arm to his chest. He looked so pissed off, so angry, and so _afraid._ Edward remained silent, staring at his lap and pressing his flesh arm so hard against his chest that it seemed impossible that he could even draw a breath in.

Roy was still standing. He was stunned simply from seeing them again, breathless. "Explain yourself, Major."

"It's none of your damn business," he hissed underneath his breath, still not looking at the Colonel.

Roy was exasperated. None of his business? _None of his business?_

"This is as much of my concern as it yours and you know that full well," Roy growled.

"It is _not!_ " Ed was looking at him now, fire in his dull eyes. "Get out of here! This is none of your business so get the fuck out!"

"You want me to leave?"

"Yes! Get out!"

"Fine," he spat, gathering up his coat. "I'll leave. I'll make sure to have a word with your brother about this, as well, since I obviously can't get anything out of you." Roy wouldn't leave, not in a million years. He knew this, but Ed didn't. It was apparent from the other conversations they had that he didn't see Roy as a constant figure in his life, as someone who he could rely on. So he had reason to believe that Mustang would walk out with no remorse.

"No." His voice was low, icy. A warning.

"Tell me what this is about, then. It's obvious that your brother is oblivious to this and, believe me, I can change that."

"You don't know what you're doing, bastard," Ed growled, head down and eyes pointed upwards.

"I know exactly what I'm doing. Excuse me, Fullmetal, I have someone I need to have a conversation with." Roy strode past Edward's hospital bed, heading towards the exit.

"Wait."

 _There it is._

Roy turned around and faced the boy, raising an eyebrow. He was visibly stressed, unsure, hesitant. The boy's golden eyes were shifting rapidly, dancing around in his lap. "I'll..." He sucked the inside of his teeth, working his jaw. "I'll tell you as long as you don't say anything to Al."

Roy breathed an internal sigh. Finally, _finally_ he would get some answers. He would get Ed to open up. He would be able to figure out what was going on. He would be able to help. To fix what he had broken, what he could have _prevented_ from breaking. Mustang took a breath and took his seat next to the hospital bed once more.

"Spil. Start where you want to, but I need the whole story."

Edward huffed a sigh and ran his hand through his hair which laid messily around his shoulders. It was knotted still from when the shower had drenched it; honestly, it looked like he had never seen a brush in his life. The teen's teeth teased his lower lip and wrung his hands in his lap. "I... I don't..." He was unsure, not knowing where to start.

 _How long has this thing been going on?_

"Why are you hiding being ill?" Roy decided it would be the best option to give him a place to start, something concrete.

"It just happens sometimes."

A blatant lie, one that Roy could see right through. Usually, the kid was able to throw up a pretty good bluff in next to no time, but this was different. Either he was too preoccupied with his emotions or he didn't want to lie about it. It definitely wasn't the latter.

"That's a lie. One more slip-up and I go straight to Alphonse."

Edward sighed and rubbed his face with both hands, not even trying to cover up for himself. He lowered his head and looked away, embarrassed and ashamed, not of the lie but what he was about to confess. "I stopped eating," he mumbled.

Mustang's eyebrows flew up to his hairline. Of all the things he could have said, that was not one the man was expecting to hear. Roy gave him a look, motioning to continue.

"A few months back I was in some mineshaft in this basically nonexistent city on a trail for the stone," the boy began, still refusing to make eye contact. "The ground beneath me caved in and I would have fallen if one of the workers didn't have fast reflexes. He caught me by the arm, but he almost fell in with me. He _would_ have fallen with me if the others hadn't come to pull us out." Ed knawed on his cheek bitterly and spat, "He almost fell to his death. I refuse to let another person die for something I could have prevented."

"That was hardly your fault, Fullmetal."

"Oh, then what was it? The unstable ground? No, it was the weight of my automail." He gestured to his arm and leg. "This is an effect of my own doing. _This_ -" he thrust his prosthetic arm forward, "is why an innocent man almost died. If I can make up for that weight with my own flesh then that won't be a problem again."

Roy was horrifically amazed by the kid's own lack of logic and reason, both of which he was known to possess strongly. _That_ was the reason? Didn't he know that starving himself wasn't a solution to anything?

"Don't you know that causes so man other problems? Look where you're at now. How do you expect to do anything in this state, let alone set out on missions? This costs so many more lives than what happened on that one specific situation."

"You don't think I realized that? I don't even know why I thought it was a good idea in the first place." His eyebrows were drawn together in anger, frustration, maybe even a little bit of confusion. "I've been doing it for so long that my body rejects food. I can't fix it even if I try."

"God." Roy rubbed at his forehead. It had really gotten that bad? "So that's why you passed out."

"I'm guessing so, yeah. I was kind of out of it since I got out of the car."

 _Yeah, I could tell._

"Why do you keep denying having any problems?" Roy knew he had walls up. They weren't even walls at this point, they were towers. But was he not able to see past them, see the help he was being given?

Ed looked down and mumbled, "Because I have this handled."

"Handled?! This is what you call handled?" Mustang gestured to Ed's arm, anger painting his face. He didn't want to be angry. He really didn't. He wanted nothing more than to pull the kid into his arms and just squeeze him back together and tell him that they'd figure it out, that he'd be alright. But he couldn't. Roy had to be angry first, he had to show that this kind of desperate behavior shouldn't have happened. He had to show that this wasn't okay and that even _thinking_ about Ed doing this to himself made Roy's world shift on its axis. He had to be angry.

"I have it handled, Mustang! I don't need anyone's help, especially not yours!" His eyes met Roy's now, dull and furious. Dull and afraid.

"Obviously you do, Fullmetal!" They were both shouting and it was a wonder that no one had rushed to check on the commotion. Half of Roy was grateful for that. The other half willed for it to happen so he didn't have to have this impossible, difficult discussion that needed to happen.

"I don't," the blond spat.

"Do you have a death wish or something? What's your problem?"

Edward looked away like he had been slapped, chewing on his lip.

 _Idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot, you fucking imbecile._

Roy knew he had crossed a line. He hadn't meant to, but the words slipped out on their own. He internally punched himself and guilt coated the inside of his stomach. What the hell was wrong with him? He was doing everything wrong that he possibly could. He wasn't fit to be doing this. Because what else did those markings mean? That he wanted to live? Roy was too impulsive for this and it made him hate himself that much more.

"That's not..." Roys' voice faltered and he sighed, rubbing his face. "That's not what I meant."

Ed's eyes flicked his way, obviously scrutinizing and doubtful.

"I want you to know," Mustang lowered his voice, "That there are people you can go to who would be more than happy to lend a hand."

The fifteen-year-old let out a low laugh, ironic and forced, cupping his face in his hands. "Yeah? Like who?"

"Anyone at the office, for example."

Ed rolled his eyes. "They wouldn't get it."

He wasn't wrong. They really would be willing to help Ed, but they weren't in a close relationship with him. They really _wouldn't_ understand.

"Your brother, then."

"Are you kidding me? This would hurt him and he would blame himself. I would rather die than tell him."

Roy was positive that Ed wasn't joking about the last bit, something that sent a chill down his spine.

"Don't you have any friends that you can turn to? What about your mechanic?"

"Freinds?" Edward laughed bitterly. "You really think I have time for something as stupid as that?" He rubbed the spot between his eyebrows like he had a headache. "And I'm not saying anything to Winry. I promised I'd never make her cry again." The alchemist's stare turned onto the Colonel, almost pleading. "Who could I have told? Who could I have trusted enough to talk with? Who wouldn't look down on me for this, this fucking weakness?!" His voice continued to raise until he was shouting, panting like a wild animal.

There was silence as Roy chewed the inside of his cheek.

"Well?" The look on the elder Elric's face was grimly smug, like he had won an argument he hadn't wanted to in the first place.

Something in Roy snapped. "You could have gone to me, dammit!"

Edward burst out in laughter - dark, menacing laughter - and Roy felt his face heat up in both anger and embarrassment. "You?" he breathed, "Since when do you give a shit over what happens to me?"

"Believe it or not, Fullmetal, I actually do care about my subordinates," he growled, tone sharp. It cut off Ed's ironic laughter and the boy turned to face him fully, smirking.

"Oh for what? So you can walk all over them in your rise to Fuhrer?"

At his words he could feel heat rising in his chest, anger boiling over. It pissed him off that Ed even _thought_ that, that he would completely disregard the care and he precise love he had for all the people working under him. Was he blind?

"You _know_ that's not true."

"Do I? All you seem to care about is yourself like the asshole you are."

The Colonel was out of his seat now, unable to control his temper. Emotions were running high, swirling thick around the room. He knew that this was a stem of defense from the kid, that this was him lashing out. But there was the possibility that he really, _truly_ thought what he said and it enraged him. He refused to be insulted, even if it was what he deserved. Roy stepped forward, gripping at the iron bedrail with his hands so he didn't do anything else with them. "This is pure _idiocy!_ You really believe I think that?! You're even more stupid than I give you credit for!"

"Wh-"

"Don't you _dare_ go making those assumptions, Fullmetal. Do not accuse me of your own personal blindness, I refuse to allow that. Now I give a hell of a lot more than a shit about what happens to you and don't think for a second I don't, you little jackass!" Vulgar words were spilling from his lips like acid and nothing was there to stop it. "Now _what the hell were you doing to yourself?"_

Edward diverted his glare away bitterly. "You wouldn't understand," he spat.

"Oh, I wouldn't?" Roy barked out a sarcastic laugh. "You don't have any idea."

Edward looked almost offended. He must have been sure that Mustang had some perfect life, had never really been through anything, not like he had. He must have thought the Colonel was trying to belittle his problems and compare them to his own, different ones. " _Bullshit!_ "

That was not the case. Mustang knew what he was talking about and knew it well.

"I was in the same place as you, Fullmetal!"

"What a damn lie! You couldn't have less of a clue, oh-so-perfect-Colonel." His voice dripped with poisonous sarcasm.

"Try me." Roy narrowed his eyes. He wasn't planning to have to say this, at least not so soon. It was a part of him that he didn't like to share, that he _couldn't_ share. An up-and-running Colonel couldn't have the issues that he had. It could cost him his job. The last time he had told anyone was years ago, with Maes. That streak was about to be broken. "You have no idea," he laughed, "how similar of a place I was in. I've done _unspeakable_ things to people. Things I will never let myself say aloud. Do you know what it's like to live with that? You do. Do you know where all of the pain and the guilt goes, how it transforms? You do." Mustang chuckled darkly. "I do, as well. I know all too well what it feels like to want to die. _All too well!_ " His voice raised to a shout and Edward sunk back, retreating from the sound. "I held a damn gun in my mouth! So believe me when I say that _I know what you feel_ , just like the back of my hand!"

Edward had little to no expression on his face, mouth pressed into a grim line as he fiddled with his hands. Turning his head away, he mumbled, "I don't need your empathy. I don't want it."

"Dammit, Edward!" The kid jumped at his voice. "Work with me! I'm trying to help you, for God's sake!"

The eider Elric snapped his head up, fierceness in his tarnished eyes. "I thought I made it clear that I don't need it! What do you care, anyway? If I were to die it would be a load off your shoulders!"

He was acting before he even knew it. This kid had _no right_ to put words in his mouth and wrongly predict his intentions. Nothing angered him more than that, than spreading a false image to which he did not identify with. He was out of his chair in a millisecond, raising his hand and slapping Ed across the face. It was so fast Ed didn't even have a chance to defend himself, didn't even have a chance to flinch. Roy didn't regret it.

Before the kid could react, he grabbed the teen by the shoulders and leaned in. "You will not speak of things you have no comprehension of, do you hear me?! You have no grasp of what you are saying!" His tone lowered. "I refuse to lose another person to death. If I can help it, then I sure as hell will." Mustang released the boy roughly and took a breath, studying the floor and breathing heavily, coat tucked back under his hands that rested his hips. "What..." He trailed off, tone ominous. "What do you think that would do to me? Your coworkers? Your mechanic?" His voice was rising steadily. "Hell, think about your brother! Would you really do that to him?!"

Edward hadn't moved since he had been struck; a hand to his cheek, eyes wide and distant, frozen in surprise. He blinked slowly, owlishly, as if processing. The boy's head dropped slowly as he curled into himself, tangled bangs shading his eyes. Roy couldn't tell what was going to happen until he could hear Ed breathing through his clenched teeth.

It seemed as though he had finally gotten through. His brother was his weak point, perhaps the only thing that could actually get him talking.

A sound like a mix between a whine and a grunt sounded from the boy's throat, strangled as he tried to speak.

"I... I want to do it," he choked out, teeth still tightly clenched. "I want to stop. There's too much... _stuff_ to keep going. It feels like there's too much." He stopped for a few seconds, raising a fist to his lips as though to physically hold back a sob, a cry of anguish, or perhaps any sort of verbal emotion that was threatening to spill out. "But I can't," he gasped, voice breaking, "I can't leave him. I can't."

With a sort of concerned horror, Mustang realized the kid was crying. A single _plop_ of a tear hitting the bedsheets was faint, but Roy didn't miss it. He could count on one hand the number of times he had actually seen Ed cry and he was at a loss. He didn't know what to do.

Edward furiously scrubbed at his eyes with his flesh hand, fully revealing the cuts fanning over his skin. It knocked Roy's breath from his lungs and he looked away, feeling guild lick at his stomach.

"I don't know what to do," he continued. "It just... It hurts. It hurts to be alive. I don't know what to do, I just..." His voice trailed off as he held his breath, fighting away the emotion building behind his eyes. "I can't leave him alone!" Ed cried, cupping his hands over his eyes. "All I want is the pain to stop..."

Edward remained hunched over, hands over his face and nearly trembling with the effort to contain the sobs that desperately wanted out. More tears had not fallen since the first one, remaining imprisoned by long, golden, almost childish lashes.

 _All I want is the pain to stop._

The words echoed in Roy's ears. They were so helpless, so fragile, so _young_ , that it chipped a part of his heart away. He had never seen Ed in such a light. Sometimes, _most of the time_ , he forgot that Edward was still a kid. That he wasn't some strong figure that couldn't be beaten, that he wasn't always the 'prodigical alchemist.' This time, he was forced to open his eyes and _see it_. See that Ed was still only fifteen, still a _kid_. It hurt his heart.

So he stepped towards the bed again, but not in anger. Reaching his hands out, he pulled Ed close to him. It was an awkward position; bent over, twisted to the side, arms around the boy. Mustang didn't mind or even notice for that matter. He gripped the back of Edward's blue hospital gown, afraid to let go. He would never let go.

Edward inhaled sharply, stiffening.

"It's okay, Edward," Roy murmured into his neck.

The teen was trembling, almost vibrating in his arms. "It's not," he choked.

"Yes it is. You're allowed to feel the way you do. You're allowed to hate it and want out. You're so strong and you've been dealing with this on your own for so long. Edward, you don't have to do it by yourself." The teen shuddered in his arms, suppressing his intense emotions with all his might. "I'm here," Roy whispered. "Let me help you."

Ed took a rattling breath, remaining quiet for several beats. His chest was heaving from the cries he was holding back, the flood of tears he felt he had to dam up. But then he uttered one word. It was shaky and unsure, but soken nonetheless.

"Okay."

The elder Elric's voice broke as he spoke, reaching up to wrap unsteady arms around his superior officer's back, returning the embrace. He clutched on like an infant, burying his face in Mustang's neck. Trembling was an understatement; Ed was violently shaking in his arms as the dam broke down just a bit. Edward made almost no sound save the occasional sniff or throaty whimper as he cried. Fresh tears, hot and wet, dropped down the side of his neck and on the collar of his shirt. The warmth spread through his chest, blossoming. For the first time since he had the first inkling of suspicion that something was wrong, he felt that everything would work out.

Roy worked a hand up into the teen's hair, holding him closer while he cried. He had never been a very touchy-feely skinship sort of person, but this was needed. This was something he had been subconsciously aching for, like an addiction he didn't even know he had. And it was definitely something Edward needed, quite literally. He needed this to live.

"We'll figure this out," Roy murmured, hooking his chin on the kid's shoulder. "It'll be okay. I'm here with you now, I'm here." Forgetting about his pride and guilt and lack of courage, he spoke. "I love you, son."

Roy could feel Edward go rigid in his hold and his heart froze. Had he gone too far, was that too much?

But almost as fast as he had tensed, he melted back into the man's arms without remorse, hugging him tighter than before and pressing his cold nose into Mustang's shoulder. Tears continued to drop onto his uniform, sounding off with each _plop_ and he felt heat against the side of his neck, either from the tears or just unknowing embarrassment. It was then that Roy realised this must have been the first time he had been embraced in years. The first time in years that he was told he was loved, that it would be okay, that he wasn't alone.

He felt his own eyes grow misty. There were too many emotions all at once and it confused him.

The one thing that he knew for sure, though, was that he had Ed in his arms and he had no intentions of letting go any time soon.

 **xxx**

 ** _To those who are struggling:_**

I'm going to be personal with you for a little bit. I know that this isn't what I normally do, but I feel like it's something that I should say. I am not saying this to look for pity or anything remotely close to that. I'm saying this in the possibility that I could help someone with what I know and what I have been through.

I have been writing this for over a year. I have written and rewritten and it has been an ongoing project that I have legitimately enjoyed.

But I started this for a reason. A very big, very personal one.

I was not in the best place last year at all. At around this time a year ago, I was struggling more than I ever had in my lifetime. I suffer from clinical depression and anxiety, which built up to almost an unbearable point. I was at the lowest of my lows when I first wrote this; I even was too depressed to write for a while. But it was a vent for me, a vent to put all of my personal experiences and struggles and hopes into.

The depression was bad - I didn't see myself living past eighteen. Every day was a struggle and some days I shut down completely. I wouldn't talk, wouldn't hold my head up in class, nothing. There were times when I couldn't move and simply stared at the wall while tears ran silently down my face until they were so swollen I couldn't move them. Nothing seemed worth it and every second of every day I was thinking about suicide.

Like I have written of Ed, I was struggling from a self-harm addiction. And I'm talking a severe one. Hundreds and hundreds of cuts. I was self-harming, depressed, and dangerously suicidal for a while. I came very, very close to attempting to take my life, closer than I ever should have gotten. I was struggling with an eating disorder, too, with everything else. My grades, one of the most important things to me, were slipping. I pushed everyone and everything away. I was trudging through the loss of someone close to me, someone who chose to take their life.

It was a very rough year in my life when I first began writing this.

But that's not what I'm here to tell you. I want to tell you where I am now, a year later.

One year later, I am _thriving_. I am more alive than I have ever been. I feel like I'm actually living again. I am no longer in that dark, deep pit that I was because I chose to _live._ Because I chose to live, I am experiencing the best of my life. I have gone through the lowest lows to the highest highs and all I can tell you is one thing:

It's worth it to keep goinig. It is so, so worth it. Because I am still here, I get to see my brothers' smiling faces. Because I am still here, I can laugh and mess around with my gorgeous best friend. Because I am still here, I get to live through so many amazing, beautiful experiences that I would have missed out on.

Of course, it wasn't easy getting here. I still have bad days, I still have relapses. But now I'm nine months and 26 days clean (299 days). I haven't missed a meal in around two months.

Look where I have gotten. _**From my lowest lows to my highest highs.**_

 ** _And now think where you can go._**

Those survivor stories are real. I have fought and I have survived and ** _things really do get better._**

 ** _So please stay alive. It's worth it, every second is worth it._**

 **xxx**


	6. Chapter 6

I want to say thank you to those who have responded to the bit I shared last chapter. I am so thankful that I am able to help at least a few of you with my story. I just want to say that I am in a much better place now and I really hope you are, too. If you ever need to talk, please don't be afraid to message me. I would be so happy to talk with you. Thank you so much, please stay safe, hon. You are loved and you are worth it *insert all my love here*

Back to the topic of the story: this is going to diverge from the original plot soon, so if you're just now tuning in, the next few chapters is the right time to do so. I'm really hoping to have these out soon, but honestly, I'm not making any promises :,) And this took a lot longer than I had expected. I had the majority of this written and done by the tiChristmasmas rolled around, but then I got really really sick before I could finish it. Seriously, it was like my body had straight-up forgotten what an immune systen was for a week and a half. Now I'm back in school and my classes take up most of my time, and the next few weeks will be extremely busy. But after that, I'm going to do my best to get these out in a reasonable time frame.

I'm exited for how this is all going to turn out ^^

Thank you for sticking with me, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

 **xxx**

 **If the following tags are included in this chapter, they will be in italics and underlined.**

 **DISCLAIMER:** **THIS STORY CONTAINS** ** _EXPLICIT LANGUAGE,_ _DISCUSSIONS AND DESCRIPTIONS OF DEPRESSION, ANXIETY,_ GRAPHIC ANXIETY/PANIC ATTACKS, _GRAPHIC_ _SELF-HARM_ _,_ SUICIDE, _SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, MENTAL ILLNESS IN GENERAL,_ (MENTIONED) PHYSICAL ILLNESS (EMETO), AND _DISCUSSIONS OF DEATH._ DO NOT READ THIS STORY IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THESE TOPICS.**

 **xxx**

Edward had tried to stop - he really, truly had. The 'scene' at the hospital was an eye-opener as to how bad it had gotten for sure, and he knew he couldn't let things continue any further than they had. He wasn't stupid; he knew the situation was already bad. But he didn't see just how _dangerous_ it was. But Mustang's confrontation just made him feel all the more guilty and weak which was adverse to how he thought he would feel. He was weak because he couldn't stop even _with_ help, even _with_ someone knowing. Wasn't he supposed to feel better about this all, wasn't the problem supposed to go away?

He still couldn't believe the Colonel knew. How was he ever supposed to face him again? How were they supposed to speak, to act around each other? It would be awkward and strange and... Grossly intimate. Because this man knew his secret and watched him cry and _hugged him._ He knew and saw it all. And after that, things would never be able to turn back to the way they were. That isn't to mean he didn't enjoy it. He did even though he would never admit it. But now it filled him with pure dread and anxiety. Edward didn't know how to act for the first time in his life and it _freaked him out._

And then the thoughts came that it was all fake. Perhaps spur-of-the-moment affection. A part of him was saying that Mustang was making it up, saying stupid, useless things that he didn't mean. The other part of Ed didn't want that to be the case. He was so internally divided. Half of him was grateful for the attention and the _care_ he had received. The other half was regretful, embarrassed, and wished the conversation had never happened. Even throughout the inner debate, they weren't the only voices in his head. He couldn't really tell between the good and bad voices because the line between blurred into a murky grey. The thoughts confused him, disoriented him. Most of the time, though, the 'bad' voices won.

When Alphonse finally showed up to the hospital, Mustang had already left, being called off for some emergency at Central Headquarters. Roy had called him after Ed cleaned up his emotions, figuring that it would be worse to wait to notify the younger Elric. Edward was grateful for his absence. He couldn't let anything slip if he wasn't there, right? Alphonse was beside himself, nonetheless, which only made Ed feel worse about himself. Al didn't even know the whole story and he was already blaming himself. Once he had been informed about his brother's condition and hospitalization he was a mess of guilt.

"This is my fault, brother, I'm sorry," he said, voice quaking. "I should have known, I should have reminded you to eat more. I'm sorry, brother."

No matter how much Ed told him that it wasn't his fault, that it was no way related to him, the Al continued to let the misplaced guilt eat at him. Edward was only more and more confident in his choice to keep quiet, even as the guilt chewed him away. If he felt so bad about this, how would he take the depression? The self-harm? There was no way that he was going to tell his brother about it. Even though a part of him, a very, very small part at that, wanted to.

He did his best to reassure Al, wanting anything else than for him than to worry himself senseless.

 _"It's okay, Al. This isn't your fault, I swear."_

 _"It's nothing, really."_

 _"It's me, not you."_

 _"I'm fine, stop worrying about it."_

 _"Look, I promise to eat more."_

 _"Alphonse, I'm_ fine _."_

The suit of armor didn't seem convinced in the slightest. He seemed suspicious along with the guilt, unlike his usual trustworthy nature, which set off warning bells in the fifteen-year-old's head. He _could not_ find out about this.

Ed wouldn't have it any other way.

 **xxx**

It was six days after he had gotten back from the hospital and he had only just gotten Alphonse to stop fretting over him so much.

Six days of keeping himself clean and he couldn't do it anymore. There was no other option. The urge had built, burning underneath his skin until it was sensitive to the touch, sending firey-hot goosebumps up his arms. It was unbearable. Ed couldn't focus on anything anymore; not his studies, not sleep, not even his brother. The urge overwhelmed his brain and senses, rising and falling in waves. This wave had lasted for a solid day without release.

He had to do it.

He _had_ to.

"Hey, Al," he spoke, voice low and rough from unuse. The pair of brothers were sitting around their small dormitory table which was swamped with books and papers. He pulled away from his chair, hands shaking. It had gotten to the point where he pretended to read in his lap, just to hide the tremors. "I'm going to the bathroom."

Alphonse looked up from the journal he was writing neatly in. "Okay, brother."

He knew he shouldn't do it for his brother's sake. He loved his younger brother, loved him so much, and he knew that this was not something Al would want. But there were only two options now: try to resist and have an inevitable panic attack, or take a few swipes to alleviate the pressure humming underneath his skin. It was an obvious choice to him.

Ed tried his best not to full-on sprint into the adjoining bathroom, quickly shuffling inside and locking the door behind him. He could feel his heartbeat in his fingers, hear it in his ears, and his breath was coming in pants that were too quick and too deep. Lightheadedly, he dove for the cabinet underneath the sink and fumbled for a familiar box of bandages. It was like he was on autopilot. He couldn't control it anymore, he couldn't. Soon enough he was gripping the box of bandages, a box he knew so well, and was dumping the contents out before his knees which had crashed to the tile hastily. Ed knew he would have bruises later.

Sifting frantically through the mess, he shakily grabbed one of the small blades he had stowed in the bottom of the box. There were a series of them from a shaving razor he dismantled a while back for his own, demented, personal use. Without hesitation, he gripped it in between his fingers and slid down the bathroom wall behind him, rolling up his sleeve in desperation.

 _I can't take it anymore._

It was an addiction now, there was no other word for it. The rush he got, the pain, the disgusting excitement - it truly was a drug. And now he knew the horrible symptoms of withdraw.

He didn't do it because he hated himself (not that he didn't) but it gave him such a relief that he couldn't find anywhere else. The rush of seeing his own blood was unlike anything he had ever felt.

Holding the blade up to his arm, he was milliseconds away from making the first swipe - then he remembered.

 _Mustang knows about my arm._

Without missing a single beat, Ed kicked his shoes off and frantically ripped off his sleek leather pants. If he couldn't do it on his arm, he'd find somewhere else. It didn't even matter, he just needed to do it. He needed to.

As soon as they were off and he was only clad in boxers and socks from the waist down, he grabbed the blade from where he had discarded it on the floor. His hands were shaking and his breaths were coming in uneven puffs; the only thing he could think about was how much his skin burned from the urge. Edward didn't hesitate as he held the blade up against his thigh, only pausing to take a breath and prepare himself for the immediate relief.

The blond swiped the metal across his own delicate ivory skin, scraping it across the length of his thigh. The pressure inside of his chest was instantly lessened and the fire on his body died down significantly as he watched the blood pool against the cut. Adrenaline rushed through his system almost immediately, effectively numbing the sting across his leg.

The mark itself wasn't deep; it was barely a line of red, only collecting the smallest beads of crimson along its exterior. He hadn't done it hard enough for his liking. So he poised the blade again, this time making two swipes, swift and deep. The effect was immediate, both physically and mentally. He could actually breathe again and the fire had developed into the smallest urge that itched at the back of his mind as the blood dripped down the length of his thigh. Ed watched, entranced, as the liquid fell onto the white tile, staining both the floor and his skin. The beads pooled over slowly, soothing him.

At last, he could think again. Leaning his head back against the bathroom wall, he sighed, satisfied. From the corner of his eye, he could still see the wounds actively bleeding, pooling in little droplets. In the back of his mind, he wondered why he wasn't crying or something. Weren't people supposed to be emotional when they did this?

He had never cried when he did it. Not once, not even the first time. Back when he used scissors instead of blades, back when the marks were the size of papercuts. He chuckled bitterly inside of his head. Back when he was still new at this, still figuring it out.

Ed remembers the first time. Everything had happened all at once and it was too much to handle without some sort of coping mechanism. He and Al were still getting over the Tucker incident, even months later. It seemed like all of their research was coming up with dead-end after dead-end. His insomnia was acting up, only allowing him odd hours of sleep at the most inconvenient times. He had reports due, so many of them that it made his head spin. All of it was piled upon his shoulders, which wasn't the best feeling in the world but he could deal with it. Really, he could. If he could force the anxiety and the depression down to a reasonable level, then he could handle it.

But then Maes died. And he couldn't handle it anymore.

Now his skin was crisscrossed with scars and healing cuts, but this time they weren't from an outward battle. They were from an inward one.

How had all of this come from something the size of a papercut? He was so high off of it now, so addicted. At first, he couldn't go a day without thinking about it. That turned into every half-hour. At first, he couldn't go without doing it once a week. That turned into several times a day. It was a losing battle with his addiction and he knew it.

Letting his eyes wander back to his thigh, Edward let a small, sick smile pull at his lips. It didn't matter as long as he got the relief, the rush. None of it mattered.

But then a flash of panic overtook his system.

Mustang. Mustang knew about it, he would know. He would find out.

Edward couldn't let him know that he wasn't able to stop. He _could not._ He made it clear that if it got any worse, any more out-of-hand, that he would involve Alphonse. Pure fear and anxiety swelled inside of his chest, breathing coming in short pants once again. Wasn't Roy knowing supposed to help? Why wasn't it helping? Wasn't he supposed to feel less panicked, not more? Everything that had happened in the last week proved otherwise. He had only felt more guilt, more fear, more doubt. Only the slightest bit of comfort. Why was he still so afraid?

He was weak, he was so weak. He couldn't even figure himself out, so how was Roy supposed to? What the fuck had he expected?

He couldn't breathe now and the anxiety was making his head spin.

Heartbeat thrumming in his chest, Ed gripped the razor tightly with his shaky hands and blindly swiped at his leg. Blood smeared on his fingertips as he went one, two, three, four times. Five, six, seven - again and again until he couldn't feel the panic anymore. Adrenaline had fully rooted itself in his system, dulling the sting. His thigh was a mess of blood, soaking into the hem of his boxers and freely dripping onto the tile. The blond leaned against the wall, panting, as he watched himself bleed, tossing the razor aside with a _clink._ Blood flowed and pooled from his leg, more than he had expected. It didn't matter, it had gotten the job done. He could breathe again he could think.

It would be fine. He could keep this a secret. No one would know.

Slowly, his breathing began to even out as the blood calmed him down. Although Ed would have preferred to watch the blood for a little longer, he knew he had to clean up. Al would be suspicious if he took any longer.

Scooting over against the wall, he grabbed the roll of toilet paper from its holder and tore off a copious amount, taking it and beginning to mop up the mess on his thigh. Once most of the blood was gone, he could see each mark more clearly than before - there were twelve in total. Blood continued to ooze from them, beading and dripping. Holding pressure down on the wad of paper against his leg, he fumbled onehandedly through the box of bandages he dumped on the floor until he was gripping a roll of gauze.

Blood had soaked through the thin paper and was warm and wet against his hand, almost pleasurably so. Ed tossed the mess into the toilet beside him, unrolling even more toilet paper to properly clean up. Once it was wiped fairly clean, the blond began wrapping the gauze around the length of this thigh - simple bandages weren't going to do the job this time. He went several times around, grimacing when it pulled at his wounded and marked-up skin. Little spots of red still bled through the bandages, so he went around one more time and tore the rest off with his teeth, tucking the end back into the bandages.

Whatever. If it bled through, it wouldn't matter very much. His pants were black and the blood wouldn't show through it. He had to get back to Alphonse soon and he didn't have time to fix it even if he wanted to. Edward stood and stumbled back into his pants and shoes, wincing when it pulled at the bandages. The adrenaline hadn't worn off quite yet, but it also wasn't as strong as it had been previously.

Still, he didn't mind, though.

Gathering up the remaining wads of bloody paper, he flushed the mess down the toilet; putting it in the trash can was much too risky. Before he touched anything else with his blood-smeared hands, the teen flipped on the sink and washed away the crimson, erasing the evidence of his previous indulgence and turning the water a light shade of red. Leaving the sink on, he wet a few paper towels and scrubbed at the tile where blood had dripped, dropping it in the trashcan and burying it underneath several other used towels once he had finished. Quickly, he stacked the bandages and blades back inside the box and stowed it once again underneath the sink, which was still running. As he washed his hands off once more, just to be safe, the young alchemist glanced around the room. All evidence had been destroyed or hidden efficiently and there were no traces of blood to be seen anywhere.

Edward sighed and turned off the sink, rolling his sleeves back down.

It would be okay. He could do this and he would be fine, it would all be fine.

He was afraid to think any differently.

 **xxx**

 _ **If you feel like you are in a crisis, please call one of these numbers according to your geographic region.**_ _ **I**_ _ **apologize if your region is not included below. My chapter stats give me graphs according to geographic location, and these are all of the ones listed. If you can not find your country, please feel free to look it up or message me privately. Please stay safe.**_

 **United States: 1-800-273-8255 (1-800-273-TALK)**

 **Canada: 1-833-456-4566**

 **United Kingdom: 116-123**

 **Australia: 13 11 14**

 **France:** **01 45 39 40 00**

 **Japan:** **+81 (0) 3 5286 9090,** **20:00 - 06:00,** **03-5774-0992,** **9am – 11pm**

 **Russian Federation:** **051 (or 8495051) is a 24 hour emergency number for Moscow residents,** **Samaritans (Cherepovets): 007 (8202) 577-577**

 **Ireland:** **Samaritans ( ) is a registered charity aimed at providing emotional support to anyone in distress or at risk of suicide throughout Ireland**

 **Poland:** **89 19288 or 89 527 00 00**

 **Philipines:** **(02) 804-HOPE (4673) or 0917 558 HOPE (4673)**

 **Brazil:** **Centro de Valorização da Vida is an emotional and suicidal prevention support. It offers voluntary and free support, with all communications being confidential. Contacts can be made through the phone number 141 (available 24/7), personally (in one of the 72 centers around the country), chat (via their website), VoIP (via Skype) and e-mail.**

 **New Zealand:** **1737, need to talk? ( www. .nz) is the national mental health and addictions helpline. Free call or text 1737 any time for support from a trained counselor.**

 **India:** **91-22-27546669**

 **Argentina:** **(54-11) 4758-2554.**

 **Mexico:** **(55) 5259-8121, available Monday to Sunday 9:00 to 21:00**

 **Estonia:** **7pm to 7am at 655 8088 in Estonian and 655 5688 in Russian.**

 **Hungary:** **116-123**

 **Belgium:** **Stichting Zelfmoordlijn 1813 ( ) provides a 24/7 national suicide prevention phone line and a webchat every day from 18:30 to 22:00 for the Dutch language.**

 **Zelfmoordlijn 1813 limited webchat can be found at /chat-met-zelfmoordlijn-1813.**

 **Stichting Centre de Prévention du Suicide ( .be/fr/) provides a 24/7 national suicide prevention phone line for French language.**

 **The Center for the Prevention of Suicide website and Forum can be found at . .**

 **Greece:** **1018 ( ) is the national emergency number in Greece, 166 is the number for ambulances, 199 for the fire department, 100 is for police.**

 **Denmark:** **Livslinien ( .dk) offers telephone support 11am-4am on 70 201 201, or online chat**

 **Finland:** **010 195 202 (Finnish) or (09) 4135 0501 (foreigners)**

 **Spain:** **717 003 717**

 **xxx**

 **Please stay safe, lovely.**

 **xxx**


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